


Of This Body

by sarken



Category: Third Watch
Genre: Gen, Juvenilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-22
Updated: 2003-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-07 18:56:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarken/pseuds/sarken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bosco's actions during an arrest leave Faith in a difficult position with Sergeant Christopher, which ultimately leads to the revelation of just how much Faith is willing to sacrifice for her partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of This Body

**Author's Note:**

> This story took over six months to write, being started in a notebook on February 16, 2003 and being completed on August 22 of the same year. It's not nearly as long as stories that others took six months to complete, but I'm quite happy with its final word count of 12,985. I sincerely hope you enjoy reading "Of This Body" (aka "The Christopher Fic") as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Thanks go out to Kadi for late night betas, Neko for allowing her muse to contribute a line or two and for saying I have guts, Kate and Mona for encouragement, m&amp;m gal for jump starting my muse with her kind words, my other LJ friends for not defriending me and sometimes encouraging me as I outlined and ranted and raved, Tara for keeping my ego in check ("This is stupid."), Tori Amos ("Icicle" and "Precious Things") and Pink ("Numb") and Garbage ("#1 Crush") for musical motivation and inspiration, and Brad Beyer for being Jason Christopher -- my favourite Third Watch sergeant.

Bosco yawned as he pushed open the doors of the precinct. It had been a long, busy day spent on the move as he and Faith chased perps and responded to an unusually high number of calls. Usually he was high on adrenalin after days like these, but the past few days had been so hectic that he was zapped of energy. He wanted to go home and crash.

Faith yawned, too, and whacked him with the notebook she carried. "I'm not even tired and you have me yawning," she complained good-naturedly.

Sergeant Christopher, who looked much too pleased with himself for the end of such a crazy day, came hustling down the stairs as Bosco and Faith passed the front desk. Gesturing to Faith with his clipboard, he said, "Yokas, wait up. I need to talk to you."

As one, Bosco and Faith turned to him. "What about, Sarge?" Faith asked, wondering why it couldn't have been discussed earlier that day or why it couldn't have waited until the next day.

"You change your name, Boscorelli? Get lost," Christopher said to the other man. "Yokas, see me in the roll call room." He turned and strode back up the stairs without another word.

After Bosco promised to wait for her, Faith followed Christopher into the room, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against it, her crossed arms holding her folded jacket against her chest as she waited for him to speak.

"I saw you two in that alley last week, when Boscorelli was beating on that perp," he began. "I don't want that going on in my precinct."

"It was self-defense," she protested. It hadn't been. The perp had been a child molester, something both she and Bosco abhorred. He had eluded capture for weeks and when they had caught him, Bosco had been just mad enough to throw a few punches. Faith hadn't had any intention of stopping him until the man was sufficiently injured; he deserved whatever he received.

"Did Roberts have a gun, a knife? Did he throw the first punch? Or was he looking at you the wrong way and Boscorelli felt he had to protect you from the big bad criminal?" Christopher's voice was mocking; it was clear he wasn't buying that it had been self-defense. He knew Bosco, his temper, and what would set him off. Moreover, he knew how far Faith would allow her partner to go before calling him off.

Faith remained silent, glaring angrily at Christopher.

"I thought as much," he said with a satisfied nod. "I want you to listen closely, Yokas, because I'm only going to say this once. I don't want this going on in my precinct and, since Boscorelli is well known for pulling this sort of thing, the easiest solution is to get rid of him. If I report this, he's gone. There have been too many other instances of prisoners 'having accidents' around him and coming in all busted up. I know how much your partner means to you, though, so you can help him out of this little mess. If you're willing to do something for me."

"Name it," Faith answered quickly. She wasn't about to let Bosco go down for giving the scum of the earth what he deserved. Bosco was a good cop -- a little hot-headed at times, but that didn't make him bad, it made him Bosco. And not only was he a good cop, but he was also a good friend. She'd be damned if she wouldn't do everything she could to help him.

"Sleep with me."

Faith's eyes widened and she was suddenly thankful for her earlier decision to lean against the door; Christopher's proposition of sleeping together so she could protect Bosco nearly knocked her off her feet. Her mind raced; surely she could figure out a way to use this to her advantage. She could tell Swersky -- yes, that was it. The lieutenant would kick Christopher's ass clear out to California if he knew. "Um, could I have some time to think about it?" she asked, planning on going directly to Swersky the moment she left the room.

"You've got until tomorrow," he answered. "And, Yokas, if you tell anyone, both of you are going down. I'll deny it, and tell the lieutenant how Boscorelli _and_ you were brutalizing Roberts. He'll get fired and you'll have at least thirty days without pay. After all, who would the lieutenant believe: Boscorelli's loyal partner or a sergeant?"

"Am I dismissed?" she said, needing to get out of the room. She needed to sit down; she needed to calm down. There had to be a way to end this well, but she couldn't think of it while her head was spinning.

Christopher nodded and as Faith walked out of the room, he called, "Give it some real consideration, Yokas."

\---

When Faith entered the locker room, she didn't even notice that Bosco was waiting for her. She went directly to her locker and spun the dial, focusing on only that task. She needed to focus on something or all of her thoughts and emotions would overwhelm her, like being in the ocean and being pummeled by wave after wave, unable to reach the surface again. If she didn't focus on one single thing, she'd drown in a sea of confusion.

"Faith?" Bosco asked, walking over to her. "What did Christopher want?"

He wants sex from me so you can keep your job, she thought. "Nothing," she answered, her tone surprising even herself. Her voice sounded so calm and level despite the turmoil she was in.

Bosco shrugged and slung his gym bag over his shoulder. "All right, then. I'm beat, so I'm heading out. I'll see you tomorrow."

Faith nodded, not wanting to take the chance of saying anything. She didn't trust her voice to not betray her emotions a second time. She listened as he walked away, the door closing behind him with a gentle thud. Beginning to change into her civvies, she muttered to herself, "I can't do this. I can't go home like this and risk talking to Fred and have him find out. He can't know about this, but I can't...I can't do this, not alone. Who should I go to with something like this?"

She shook her head, knowing that the answer was impractical. "Bosco," she said with a sigh. "I can't tell him, though. I can't deal with a guilty Bosco on top of this."

But he deserved to feel guilty; it was his fault.

As she shut her locker, she came to a decision. "I can't tell him _the truth_."

She hoped the subway ride was long enough to spin a believable tale. But if he was tired enough, it wouldn't matter. He wouldn't understand.

\---

Bosco stumbled toward the front door, intent on killing whoever was out there at one in the morning, disturbing his sleep. Not giving any thought to his safety, he flung the door open the entire way and tried to muster up an angry glare instead of sleepy, half-shut eyes. All thoughts of murder left his mind when he saw who stood on the other side.

Faith stood there, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, a pained expression on her face. "Bosco...Bosco, God, I need your help," she said, staring at him with frightened eyes.

Confused and a bit concerned, he stepped back and let her enter without saying a word. He watched as she headed for the couch where she collapsed onto it. Questions of what had happened and why she was coming to him raced through his mind as he ran a hand through his hair, already wild from sleep.

"Remember how I went to talk to Christopher after our shift today? It wasn't 'nothing' that he wanted. I was talking to him a few days ago and I said something I shouldn't have, something he shouldn't have been allowed to know, something that could get me fired if he told anyone. Today he had an ultimatum for me." Faith nervously crossed and uncrossed her legs as she focused on a point somewhere over Bosco's head.

Bosco, who was still confused but no longer half asleep, went over to sit by her. He kept half a cushion of space between them, sitting far enough away that he didn't crowd her but close enough that he could comfort her, if she wanted it. "What was it?"

Faith shook her head, disgusted and disbelieving. "What he knows...he, uh, he says he won't say anything about it, if I...if I sleep with him."

"Oh, God, that son of a bitch has really gone too far. I didn't think even he was capable of..." he trailed off, neither wanting to say the words or knowing which words to use.

They were silent for a minute, Bosco thinking about the unfairness and Faith worrying about how long she could keep up her story. She had to try and keep her emotions from getting the better of her. If she didn't, the truth might come out. Still, the reality was just beginning to hit her and it was so, so hard to keep the reality from blending with and possibly overpowering the fiction she had so carefully scripted while on the subway.

"Can't you report him?" Bosco asked. "It's got to count as sexual harassment or something."

"That wouldn't work. I'd have to tell Swersky what I told Christopher and then I'd still be in trouble. Besides, he already pointed it out to me -- who would believe a beat cop over a sergeant?"

Bosco exhaled loudly and ran a hand through his hair again. "Damn, he's put some thought into this."

Faith sighed, nodding her agreement. "So, basically, I can sacrifice my morals or my job."

Bosco looked at her and could almost see the wheels spinning in her head as she desperately searched for another option. He could tell she was getting no where and had already made up her mind, but he was unable to determine which decision she'd made. "What are you going to do?" he asked, fearing the answer. He felt awful for asking, like he should have known her well enough to have it figured out. He hated that she could always read him, that he never had to say anything like this out loud because she always knew -- sometimes even before he himself did.

"Morals don't put food on the table. That doesn't leave me with much of a choice. I'm going to sleep with him." Although she had made up her mind only moments earlier, she sounded oddly calm as she spoke, as if she'd spent hours making this decision and coming to terms with it.

Bosco paled and could taste the bile that rose in his throat. He was disgusted and saddened by Faith's seemingly easy acceptance of the situation. It was as though she expected it and had been preparing for something like this, carefully turning it over in her head for years, trying to decide what to do when faced with the choice. He knew it couldn't possibly be the truth -- who planned for a scenario like this? -- but that didn't mean the appearance wasn't there.

Faith wet her lips and looked at the boots she wore. "I mean, I can't be selfish. I have to think about my family. They're more important than my morals, aren't they?" She was trying to convince herself as well as make sure she had Bosco's support. She needed him more than ever. There was no way she could survive this ordeal without having one person who knew, one person she could turn to, even if that person was to blame for her situation.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, wishing he had a definite answer. "I'll back you in whatever you do, though, Faith, I promise. If you need anything, I'll drop everything for you."

Her eyes met his and she offered him a sad, grateful smile before leaning forward to hug him tightly. She pulled away and turned to face the wall in front of her, where his TV sat in an entertainment center, its blank television-black screen staring at her. "Maybe it won't be that bad," she said hopefully, sniffling, but not crying. "It's just going to be one night and it's not like I'm the first person to be in this position. Yeah, I can do this. Tell me I can do this and come out okay, Boz."

He draped an arm over her shoulders and gave her an encouraging squeeze. "You can do this," he whispered. "I know you can. You don't have to do it alone, though. I'm here. Don't forget that."

\---

During roll call, Bosco sat next to Faith, keeping a watchful eye on her and shooting glares at Christopher. He was impressed that there was no indication of anything the least bit out of the ordinary on either of their parts. Christopher rattled on about the department's top priorities and Faith was listening closely to make up for Bosco's wandering mind. She was acting so normal that he wanted to grab her by the shoulders and give her a good shake.

He was beginning to wonder if his mind had dreamed up the events of the previous night when he heard Christopher wrap up what he was saying. "Yokas, I want to talk you. Everyone else, get to work."

The others filed out of the room, leaving Bosco and Faith sitting in the chairs and Christopher standing at the front of the room. Bosco hoped his presence would cause Christopher to at least delay the inevitable or maybe change his mind entirely, but the sergeant dashed those hopes when he spoke. "Boscorelli, take a hike."

Bosco sighed. He felt Faith grab his hand and squeeze it quickly, trying to draw some strength from him. He returned the gesture with a slight smile before leaving to get their radios and warm up the squad. Faith hated getting into a cold car, he knew. She always told him the seats felt like they were sucking the life out of her body.

"So, Faith," Christopher began, leaning across the podium, "have you given any thought to my offer?"

Faith winced at the way Christopher said her name; it made her stomach churn. She didn't want to think about how his hands on her body would make her feel if her name on his tongue had this affect on her. She pushed those thoughts into a far away corner of her mind before saying, "Yeah, I have. And I'll do it. You'd better not be lying, though, or so help me..."

Christopher smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant smile. It was a superior, satisfied smirk that made him look incapable of any other facial expression. "Tomorrow night, after our shift, I'll find you. And don't worry, I'm not lying. You'd just better be a good screw, Yokas. Now get out there and do your job."

Somewhat surprised her legs could hold her, Faith stood and numbly walked out of the precinct. She wondered if she would cry or throw up first. Perhaps she'd flip a coin, she thought as she slid into the RMP without looking at Bosco. "Drive," she commanded.

And he drove. He drove right to the bridge and parked beneath it, knowing Faith needed to talk even if it was the last thing she wanted. Under the bridge was their place to kid around on dull days, to relax on long days, and to discuss on sad days. The bridge knew them as intimately as they knew themselves and each other.

"Faith?" Bosco asked, trying to get her to say something.

Faith turned toward him, keeping her eyes on everything except him. She knew he had a damn good idea as to what had just transpired and that made her feel dirty and ashamed as he watched her. "So, it's official. Tomorrow night, I whore myself out to that bastard. How the _hell_ did this happen?"

Bosco didn't know what to say. Did he try to answer her, try to reassure her, what? There were no readymade responses for when your best friend has to trade her body and her beliefs to protect her family and her job. "I...I don't know if this helps any, but what you're doing...I admire you for it. I know it takes a lot of loyalty and determination and courage. Seeing those things makes me glad you're my best friend."

Annoyed, she wiped away the tears that were forming in her eyes. "Thank you, Bosco. But I'm not being courageous or loyal or anything like that. I'm doing this because I'm terrified of what might happen."

Bosco shook his head. "You'd never know it. Maybe that's what courage is, though. Not being scared, hell, that's stupid. I guess courage is controlling your fear, making it work for you, something like that." He put his hand on her leg, signaling her to look at him. When their eyes met, he continued, "You don't have to be courageous around me, though, okay?"

Before Faith could thank him, her radio crackled to life. "5-5-David, respond to 10-34 past sexual assault at 1-0-9 and Arthur."

"5-5-David, 1-0-9 and Arthur," Faith responded. Releasing the button, she sighed and let her head fall back against the seat. "Great, just what I wanted today."

\---

Bosco and Faith were the last people in the locker room after their shift. He had finished changing quite a while ago, but Faith was still rummaging through her locker, trying to distract herself while waiting for Christopher. She had to make a conscious effort to keep her feet firmly rooted to where she stood. More than anything she wanted to bolt out the door and run home to her family.

Bosco knew Christopher would be coming in to change any moment and decided he should talk to Faith before he lost the opportunity. He walked over to her and leaned against a nearby locker. He didn't want to have this conversation from a distance. "I'll wait up for you in case you don't want to go home," he said quietly.

"Thanks." She wouldn't look at him and continued to dig through her stuff. "You should probably go. I don't think Christopher would appreciate your being here."

"Yeah," he agreed, beginning to walk away, but not turning away from her. "Is there anything I can do?"

Faith shrugged and shut her locker. She still wouldn't face Bosco, though, and kept her eyes fixed on the locker door.

"Okay, then. I'll, uh, I'll see you later," he said and walked to the door. He was reaching for the handle when someone on the other side flung it open. If not for some fancy footwork on Bosco's part, he would have been on his way to Angel of Mercy with a broken nose. He was still trying to regain his balance as the person entered.

Christopher, already in his street clothes, breezed past Bosco, oblivious to the utter hatred that oozed from every pore of his body. He leaned against the same locker in the exact same manner as Bosco had only moments before. "Come on, Yokas, I don't have all night."

Bosco's feet remained glued to the spot, his eyes fixed on the sight before him. It wasn't until Christopher leaned over and whispered something into Faith's ear that made her face burn red and her eyes shine with tears that Bosco was able to tear his eyes away. Disgusted with both Christopher and his own inability to protect his partner, he stormed out, going home to sit and wait.

\---

Feeling Christopher's eyes upon her, Faith picked up her clothing from the floor and dressed hurriedly. She had to get out of the apartment before she broke down.

Christopher hadn't once lost his arrogance and his control had never faltered. He was good; he was in control. And he knew it. He had made it about him even when it was about her. Oh, yes, he'd been sure to pleasure her, make her cry out. He'd made her body betray her because he knew he could. He'd earned the right to look smug as he leaned against the headboard, watching her dress.

"You enjoyed that." His voice broke the silence and seemed to reverberate throughout the bedroom. "So did I -- you _are_ are good screw, Yokas -- but that isn't the point. The point is _you_ enjoyed it, whore."

His words stung as it was, but Faith's guilty conscience made them burn like fire. Her mind distorted his voice, turning it into the voices of a disgusted Bosco and a rightfully angry Fred. They repeated the last sentence over and over before changing to calling her a whore and a slut. Her head throbbed with each word and she had to find something else to concentrate on before the pounding became too much.

She slipped her shoes on and walked toward the door, listening to the sound of her shoes hitting the hardwood floor of the hall. Her hand still on the doorknob, she turned back to the open bedroom door. "Fuck you."

She had.

\---

Faith was shaking as she hesitantly raised a hand to knock on Bosco's door. Recalling the row of three red twos on Christopher's clock, she wondered if Bosco was asleep. He'll be awake, the rational part of her brain said. He told you he would be there for you.

She pounded on the door and then dropped her arm back to her side. Uncomfortable, she put her hands on her hips, but it felt somehow awkward. She crossed her arms tightly in front of her stomach, almost hugging herself as she rocked nervously on her feet. As the seconds ticked past, her mind began to conjure up worst case scenarios: Bosco being disgusted by her and sending her away, Bosco not answering and having to go home to Fred...

The door opened and Bosco stepped aside to allow Faith entrance. She looks like...like she just had sex with her boss, Bosco thought, realizing there was nothing to make an accurate comparison. He stood there, openly staring at her as he took in her mussed hair, puffy red eyes, wrinkled clothing, and the ugly hickeys visible on her neck.

Faith stood, nervously shifting her weight as he scrutinized her.

> > > Faith lay on her back, looking at Christopher with a frightened, hateful glare. He was oblivious, though, as he knelt above her and his eyes roamed over her naked body.
>>> 
>>> She closed her eyes. She wasn't naÔve enough to believe that he wouldn't exist if she couldn't see him; she just hoped that maybe, if she didn't see him looking at her, she wouldn't feel him doing so.
>>> 
>>> "I know what you're doing," he said in an almost singsong tone. It sent chills down her spine, but the sensation wasn't even comparable to what she felt when he put his lips by her ear and whispered, "It's not going to work. You aren't going to forget."
>>> 
>>> She inhaled sharply and her eyes snapped open. She almost cried, could feel the tears forming, but knew she couldn't give him that. Her body was exposed to him, but there was no way in hell she would allow him to see her emotions.
>>> 
>>> "You're not so special," Christopher declared. "You're really an ugly girl.... And after this, you're going to feel so ugly you won't be able to face yourself."

She wanted to scream at Bosco to stop looking at her. She felt uncomfortable and ashamed as he carefully observed her -- totally different emotions from the fear and hatred she'd felt under Christopher's gaze. Just when she thought she could no longer take it, he looked away.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, staring at his bare feet.

Faith followed his line of sight. She couldn't recall ever before seeing Bosco without at least socks. He had average feet, she noticed. There was nothing about them that said they belonged to Maurice Boscorelli. They were just feet like Fred's and, yes, like Christopher's -- naked, pale, white feet against the hardwood floor. She found herself wondering if his hands were different from Christopher's.

"Faith?" He looked at her, his head cocked slightly, wondering if she was in shock or something. She hadn't spoken a word to him.

"Oh. Hi," she said, looking over his shoulder. Maybe it was close enough to his eyelevel that he would be fooled. She tried to smile at him.

He didn't even attempt to smile, lines of worry creasing his forehead. "Hi," he said back, as if he hadn't been trying to talk to her already. "Do you need anything?"

"A shower...maybe a change of clothes," she answered, despite knowing that no matter what she did, she would still feel dirty.

"Okay," Bosco agreed. He extended a hand toward Faith and she wrapped her cold, clammy hand around his, holding tightly as he led her to the bedroom.

She stopped dead at the threshold, causing Bosco to bounce back toward her like a spring.

> > > "This way," Christopher directed, nearly dragging her down the partially darkened hallway in his apartment. There was a picture frame, the kind that held several pictures, on the left wall. It held familiar photos: a smiling group of police cadets, three adults clowning around like teenagers, two soon-to-be best friends mugging for the camera, and an officer giving another bunny ears. Faith recognized those pictures, even in the half light of the hall. She and Bosco had their own copies, framed identically.
>>> 
>>> Her eyes snapped back to him when she felt him gently shove her against the wall. Her mind raced as she felt his hand on her breast. She wanted to rip his arm from the socket; she wanted to cry; she wanted a knight in shining armour to come save her. But Kevlar didn't shine and Bosco wore no other armour, and that left her knowing she would not be spared.

"Sorry," she apologized, even as she pulled her hand away. "It's just...it was like this, you know. He led me into his bedroom holding my hand and...I'm sorry. I trust you, I really do, Bosco, but I can't right now. It isn't right that I'm asking you to be here for me when I can't trust you. I'll leave." She turned away, but stopped when she felt two hands grasp her upper arms.

Bosco regretted his action the moment he felt her stiffen. His hands fell away, back to his sides where they hung awkwardly. "No, Faith, stay. I'm sorry, I'm not thinking, and it's my fault you feel you can't trust me. I'll grab those clothes for you." He opened his dresser drawer and the scent of wood and clean clothes drifted out, filling the air. He took out a pair of grey drawstring pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. "Here, take these and go shower. You can just leave everything on the floor in there. I'm used to a mess," he said, wishing he hadn't included the last sentence. Those words made helping Faith sound troublesome.

Without a word, Faith gratefully took the clothes and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Peeling off her clothes, she turned the water on, making it as hot as she could tolerate. She stood beneath the water and allowed it to run over her, scalding away every trace of Christopher from her body, but not her mind. It would take more than hot water and soap to cleanse her mind and her soul, but for now she would focus on her body.

She reached for the bottle of shampoo and massaged it into her hair. It smelled like Bosco, or one of the factors that made up his familiar scent. The familiarity of it was comforting and she was sorry to wash it from her hair as she watched the grey-white suds swirl down the drain.

When she completed the task of ineffectively washing away the feel of Christopher's fingers threading their way through her blonde hair (she idly considered dying it red again, just to erase the memory), she reached for the bar of soap. It surprised her; Bosco had always struck her as the shower gel type. Fred liked plain Ivory soap and since he and Bosco were such opposites, it seemed that Bosco would choose something different. Christopher must have been the shower gel type, she decided as she began to lather up a washcloth. She scrubbed fiercely at her body, taking away layers of dead skin and living skin, although it all felt dead to her.

She measured the passage of time by the shrinking of the soap, and hardly a sliver remained when there was a gentle knock on the door. "Faith, are you okay?" she heard Bosco ask. She could imagine him leaning against the doorframe, his brow creased as he stared at the floor and his pale feet that contrasted sharply against his dark blue carpet.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute," she said, somewhat sheepishly. She shut off the water and climbed out of the shower, drying herself with a towel that seemed too fluffy, too soft, and too feminine to belong to Bosco. Glaring at the pile of her clothes, she dug out her panties and put them on before dressing in Bosco's grey pants and olive shirt.

It's nice to have a best friend to share clothes with, she thought. All the times she had borrowed clothes from Bosco, she had never once cared that it was men's clothing. She had grown up wearing hand-me-downs from Stanley and now, dressing that way brought her back to the relatively simple times of being a child. If only her life could be so simple again. True, her childhood had been less than ideal, but it seemed like a fairytale in comparison to what she'd gone through as an adult.

She ran her fingers through her tangled, soaked hair. The blonde strands reflected her life, now a world of tears and a tangled mass of confusion. She needed someone to help her with the tangles, and knew that someone was on the other side of the door, waiting for her.

She turned the knob, wet and slippery from condensation, and stepped out, searching for Bosco. She expected him to be in the bedroom, lounging on his beige comforter while watching his little television set, but he wasn't. "Boz?" she called out, irrationally afraid that he'd left her in the brief time since she'd heard his voice. She stumbled through the darkened room, out into the living room.

A program about tigers played on the television and Bosco sat on the couch, holding something he was studying closely. He didn't look up until Faith sat next to him, causing the cushion to shift. "Do you remember this?" he asked, showing her what he held: a photograph of the two of them and Christopher, hugging and grinning broadly.

Faith nodded. "He has it hanging in his hall, you know. Still, even though you hate each other. I was surprised."

"He kept it because of you," Bosco said. "He, uh, he had this crush on you. I guess he still does, but now...obsession might be a better word. I mean, have you seen him, Faith?"

"Yeah, Boz, I saw him all right. I saw every last part of him and could describe him in exacting detail. I saw more of him than you ever will." Her words snapped, but her voice was too tired to carry any annoyance. She just sat there, staring at black tiger stripes and speaking detachedly about the sequence of events she called her life.

Bosco hated that she had twisted his words, but he also hated that he'd given her words so pliable. He opened his mouth to apologize, but was interrupted before he began.

"Please, don't. Just watch the tigers." Faith took the unframed photograph from his hands and set it face down on the coffee table. The smiling cadets were replaced by the word Kodak written over and over in pale, dove grey. Exhausted, she laid down, placing her head on Bosco's lap. It was the most comfortable she'd felt in days.

Bosco glanced down and saw her eyes drift shut before she fell asleep. Knowing that he would have a stiff neck the next day and that he was selfish to think that, he tilted his head back and hoped for a peaceful sleep -- not for himself so much as for Faith.

\---

He wasn't sure if it was the motion or the sound that startled him into opening his eyes, but both assaulted his senses as he stared down at Faith, his best friend, writhing as she lay on the couch. Cries of protest turned into sounds of pleasure, even as she continued to toss and turn.

> > > She whimpered as she stared up into the hardest, iciest blue eyes she had ever seen. The black of his dilated pupils even appeared icy, paler than it should have been.
>>> 
>>> "Hush," he said and placed his finger over her lips. His breath, though it should have been cold and inhuman like the monster it belonged to, was warm as it caressed her face.
>>> 
>>> She quickly turned her head to the side, feeling a streak of wetness being painted on her face as his finger dragged across her skin. His finger was cold -- like his breath should have been -- even though it had just been thrusting in and out of her.
>>> 
>>> "Jason will take care of you," he whispered, in what he must have considered to be a soothing tone. It was as soothing as fingernails on a blackboard.
>>> 
>>> "Bosco," she choked out, quietly and pitifully pleading for help that she would never receive.

Bosco wasn't sure if he should wake her or let her continue to dream. Was it better to let her relive it now and get it over with; would awakening her make the dreams worse later on? He chewed on his lip, a habit of uncertainty, as he watched, feeling like some sort of voyeur. Now he knew the expressions that crossed her face, the noises that escaped from her throat, the ways that her body moved when she had sex.

And he knew without having her permission.

Did that make him worse than Christopher? He had at least given her a choice. Either decision she made would have been unpleasant, but it had been a choice nonetheless. She had allowed him to see her in such a light. With Bosco, though, she had no say in the matter. She was asleep, dreaming; she couldn't control what she was doing or filter what Bosco witnessed. And there he was, just watching. Just taking her movements, expressions, cries, and committing them to memory. Just taking...taking, like a God damned rapist.

"Faith," he said, knowing he would be unable to live with himself if he didn't speak up. If he let her sleep and dream, he would forever be haunted by that comparison his sleep deprived mind had created.

When she opened her eyes, Faith's first instinct was to ask if it had all been a dream. But she knew the answer and she couldn't put Bosco through having to tell her. He was being so understanding and kind that she was honestly surprised. When she came to him, she hadn't known what to expect, but she knew whatever she found would be better than if she went to her husband. It was just another secret which Fred could never know about. She hoped this time she could keep it.

Bosco looked down at her and forced a smile. "You were dreaming," he said unnecessarily. "Should I have let you dream?"

Faith shook her head and sat up, realizing Bosco's legs must have been asleep from having her weight on them. "No, I think you made the right call." She wondered what he heard and saw, blushing slightly as she thought of the possibilities. "Was I, uh, talking in my sleep at all? Fred says I do that sometimes and..."

He shook his head, knowing what she was getting at. "You were kind of -- I don't know. They were noises, not words, though. Besides, you know I'd never repeat anything you said. We're partners, friends. What's between us stays between us."

"I know," she said, "and I'm not worried about that. It's just...a girl's got to protect her secrets, right?"

Bosco nodded slowly, looking sad. "It's probably none of my business," he began hesitantly, "but how are you going to protect this secret? You know he's going to ask where you were all night."

She lifted her eyes and looked directly into his. They were a stormy blue-grey, so different from Christopher's icy blue eyes and Fred's nondescript eyes. "Ask me," she said.

He took a deep breath and tried to make himself angry like Fred would be. "Where the hell were you, Faith?" he demanded, looking at her with his eyes narrowed.

"I worked a double."

Her voice quavered.

\---

Bosco woke up, surprised by the absence of Faith's weight on his legs. He'd expected her to still be there, especially at -- he glanced at the VCR clock -- seven o'clock. Wondering when she'd left, he walked into the bathroom where he found various traces of her. There was long blonde hair in the shower drain, a pile of her clothing on the floor, and a note on his mirror that was written in a shade of lipstick he'd never seen her wear.

"Bosco," he read the note aloud. Of all the times he'd found lipstick letters on the mirror, he knew this one would forever be the first to come to mind. "Left at five. Thanks for everything. See you later. P.S. You need paper. P.P.S. Clean your mirror. P.P.P.S. Owe me four dollars for lipstick."

He smiled at the bit of humour she'd included in the note, glad that she could still joke. It wasn't much, but it was something, he thought as he moved to the shower and pulled the hair from the drain. For a few moments, he stood there and held it in his hand, gently running his thumb over it. He'd never touched Faith's hair before, which struck him as odd. He'd known her for almost eight years, but not once had he touched her hair. Usually he hadn't known a woman for ten minutes before his hands were in her hair. Faith isn't like that, though, he thought as he watched the hair fall from his hands into the waste paper basket.

He turned back to the pile of clothes, wondering what to do with it. For starters, he decided picking it up and folding the articles would be a good start. As he grabbed it from the floor, he heard a light metallic sound and a glint of gold caught his eye. "Damn," he whispered, reaching for the object after setting the clothes on the edge of the sink.

He held it at eye level, still not quite believing he'd just found Faith's wedding ring on his bathroom floor.

\---

"...meal at 19:30. All right, get out there. Yokas, I want you to hang back," Christopher said as he was wrapping up roll call. He stood by the podium as the officers filed out of the room, all except Faith who remained sitting in the back row.

Her blood turned to ice in her veins when Christopher told her to stay behind. She didn't know what he wanted, but a little voice kept telling her he was going to go back on his promise. She felt Bosco's hand lightly touch her shoulder in a gesture of support, but it was gone too soon, leaving her alone with Jason Christopher. She jumped when she heard his voice, closer than she'd expected.

"I'd say you could come closer and that I don't bite, but I'm sure you'd call my bluff," he said, standing over her. "I was awake all night thinking about you, how I'd love to keep you..." With the back of his fingers, he caressed her cheek, down her neck, across her shoulder, and was about to move down her arm when she pulled away, jumping up from the chair.

"We're done, Jason," she stated. "I agreed to one night, for Bosco's sake, and you're the one breaking our agreement. If you touch me again, I will file a complaint against you, but I can promise you that will be the least of your worries. Your night is over, and I'm going back to my life and you can go right back to hell." She turned and walked out, not the least bit oblivious to Christopher's eyes following her.

\---

The shiny silver of the hamburger wrapper reminded Bosco of what he'd been carrying in his pocket since the beginning of the shift. He set the burger on the grease-stained wrapper and reached into his shirt pocket. "You left this," he said, holding the ring out.

Faith, who had long since abandoned her cheeseburger after the pointless removal of the pickles and the tomato and everything but the cheese, reached out and took the ring from between Bosco's fingers. She hadn't wanted it back; not until she asked for it. She turned it over in her hands as if it were a foreign object.

Thoroughly confused, Bosco frowned, now doubting whether it belong to her. It was hers, wasn't it? It would have been a large coincidence if it belonged to someone else, not to mention that he didn't make it a habit of sleeping with married women. There had been a few, but he regretted it. No, regretted wasn't right -- he'd resented it. He didn't want to be some chick's revenge; he didn't want to be caught up in someone else's sins. There had been a few times, yes, but they were a long time ago and he was trying to forget them.

She continued to stare at it, the ugly reminder of her infidelity. In effect, she'd managed to be unfaithful twice that night. She had cheated on Fred with Christopher, but for Bosco. No, she wasn't going to put the ring on and carry around that guilt. "I took it off in his car, while we were driving to his apartment. He just kept looking at me, but not directly. He kept using the mirrors and looking." She sighed. "I thought that if I didn't have that little bit of weight on my finger, I wouldn't realize what I was doing. It turned out that not having it there was more of a reminder."

Placing the ring in her pocket, she answered his unasked question. "No, I'm not going to put it back on."

\---

Faith stood outside his door, a sense of dÈj‡ vu overwhelming her. This was so much like when she'd come to him about Christopher's proposal and when she'd ran to him after her evening with the sergeant. Now, though, everything she had felt before was intensified as she waited to tell Bosco the end result.

She felt sick. Her heart was in her stomach, which had somehow risen to her throat. The fact that she hadn't thrown up (much) amazed her. She couldn't help wondering whether her illness was emotional, physical, or a little of both.

She folded her right hand into a fist, clutching the material of her too-long shirt sleeve in that fist. Even through the material, she could feel her fingernails digging into her skin. Hesitantly, she knocked.

The door opened, a bleary-eyed Bosco standing on the other side of the dark green door. "What?" he said, sounding annoyed and tired.

Immediately, Faith regretted disturbing his sleep yet again. At the same time, she was angered by the fact that he was using that tone when he was to blame for this mess. Her anger with him and her disgust with herself made her response blunt. "I'm pregnant, Bosco. I'm fucking pregnant."

"What?" This time, he sounded incredulous and wide awake. His shock rooted him to the ground and he made no move to let her inside.

"I'm pregnant," she repeated. "Oh, God, I'm pregnant." Somehow, saying it aloud made it even more of a reality. She'd thought it had been real enough when she saw the test turn red, but nothing had prepared her for what it would be like to say the words. Tears sprang to her eyes and she willed herself not to cry.

Bosco reached out and took her by the arm, finally guiding her through the door before shutting it behind her. "Are you sure it's Christopher's?" he asked.

Faith nodded and leaned against the heavy door. "I've...I've been sleeping on the couch since that night. It's been too long for it to be Fred's."

"What are you going to do?"

Her eyes conveyed her dismay and she slouched, sliding several inches down the door. "I was going to ask you." She'd known he wouldn't have a solution, but it would have been so much easier to hear him say he didn't know than it would be to admit it herself.

An awkward silence hung in the air between them, neither knowing what needed to be said or done. Finally, Bosco broke the silence with, "Why did you come here?"

Faith pushed herself away from the door and moved further into the apartment. "I couldn't be alone; I had too much time to think. And Fred wasn't going to be home until --" Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, God, he gets off early today. Oh, my God, Bosco, I have to go."

The words had barely registered in Bosco's mind before the sound of the slamming door echoed in his ears. He stumbled over to the couch and sat down, running his hands through his hair. If he felt like this, he couldn't imagine what Faith was going through.

\---

Faith slid the key into the lock, but the door opened before she could turn the key. Fred stood inside, looking rather unimpressed. "Where were you?" he demanded, scowling.

"Bosco's," she stammered, feeling extremely guilty and nervous. Since the night she slept with Christopher, she had avoided speaking with Fred as much as she possibly could. What she couldn't understand was her sense of guilt; she'd done it partially for her family -- there would be no money to buy groceries or pay the bills if Christopher suspended her -- and certainly not because she'd wanted to.

"You've been cheating on me with him, haven't you?" He waited, obviously expecting either a denial or a confirmation.

Not with him, she thought, but for him. "I don't know where you come up with these things," she said, pushing past him and into the apartment. The last thing she wanted was for the neighbours to hear, even though she knew being inside would make little difference once Fred got started.

"You really been working all those doubles, then?" He paused briefly. "That can't be good for the baby."

The colour drained from Faith's face and, unable to stop herself, she said, "You found it."

"It wasn't hidden, babe; the box was on the sink in plain sight. Now, who else you been screwing, Faith?"

She looked at the walls, the floor, the ceiling, everything except Fred. "No one," she answered.

"All right, know what? If you're going to stand there and lie to me, get out."

Again she tried to push further into the apartment to retrieve her uniform. She was going to work; she didn't have anywhere else to go. "Can I get --?"

"Get out," he repeated, reaching over her shoulder to hold the door open a bit wider.

"Okay." She turned away, head down, and walked out the door. God, she thought as she walked, what kind of a person am I? I'm relieved that my husband is kicking me out of our house because now I don't have to lie to him any longer.

Fred held the door open a moment longer, watching as Faith slowly walked down the hall. He did love her, and seeing how upset she was hurt him -- but not as much as her cheating on him had. Still, his angered dulled just a bit. "Faith," he called softly.

Faith spun to face him, looking questioningly at him. She didn't speak, but she took a few tentative steps toward him, her hands held at stomach level as she nervously wrung them.

"Just...wait," he said, stepping into the apartment and closing the door slightly. A few minutes later, he emerged with her uniform and a gym bag containing some clothing and other necessities. Not wanting to get too near to her, he threw them and they landed at her feet with a dull thump. "Now leave," he commanded, sounding more hurt than angry.

She opened her mouth to protest, to thank him, to say something so she wasn't just staring dumbly at him, but he cut her off.

"I mean it, Faith," he said, the anger returning. "Leave and don't come back. You've really screwed up and none of us -- not Em or Charlie or me -- wants to see you again." With that, he shut the door only a bit too softly to call it slamming.

She stared at the door for a heartbeat before picking up her things and turning away. "I'm going to kill him," she declared, softly and firmly. "That's all there is to it; I'm going to kill him."

\---

He stood by his locker, hand poised to open it until the sound of the locker room door connecting with the wall drew his attention away from the task. They saw each other in the same instant.

"You son of a bitch," she stated, taking several steps toward him. "You no good son of a bitch, this is all your fault. My husband kicked me out of our apartment because of you, what I did for you."

He stared at her, confused. "Did Fred find the test?" he asked softly, not understanding how that would be his fault. Still, it would be a good explanation of why he'd kicked her out and why she was so upset.

"Yeah," she answered. "Yeah, he found the test. He knows I'm pregnant, he thinks it's yours, and he might as well be right. I did this for you and this...this is what I get. I get knocked up and kicked out of my home. Fred was right, Bosco. You're a selfish, arrogant asshole who's nothing but trouble."

He frowned, her words repeating in his mind. "Did what for me, Faith?"

"I slept with him for you!" She hadn't meant to yell it; she wanted to go back in time and take those words back. She heard the pre-shift din morph into silence and felt the eyes of her colleagues turn to her.

Bosco, however, was oblivious to the silence and the stares. At that moment in time, his complex world consisted only of six simple words: I slept with him for you. He was oddly grateful when she went on to explain; he wouldn't have been able to force 'why' past his lips, but he needed an explanation. He needed to hear her logic so he could see that her statement was only her anger speaking and not the truth. It couldn't be true.

Faith struggled to force her voice down to a normal volume and a tone that only bordered on hysteria. Despite the curious, concerned pairs of eyes on her, she continued, "He found out about Roberts, that child molester you messed up. He found out about it and he told me that unless I put out for him, he was going to the lieutenant with it. He was going to get you fired, Bosco, and I couldn't let him do that! I just couldn't. So I slept with him and now.... Why, Bosco, why do you have to be so God damn stupid? You could have just arrested him, but, no, Officer Boscorelli had to dispense a little street justice. If you'd just thought about it for five seconds, you wouldn't have done this to me!"

Hands clenching into fists at his side, he stood there and stared, feeling oddly disconnected from his physical reaction and from his feelings of anger, guilt, and so many other things he couldn't describe. He was dimly aware of it all, like it was floating around him but never touching or penetrating his being.

Faith closed her eyes and breathed in. "I can't do this," she said, her voice wavering. "I can't go on being your partner knowing that you're going to put me in this position again because it's who you are. I can't and I won't. I want a new partner."

In that instant, everything he'd felt so disconnected from rushed at him in a tidal wave, threatening to drown him if he couldn't find one thing to cling to. Just as he had so many times before, he chose to cling to his anger. It was something steady that always flowed just below the surface, available for him to reach for when he didn't know what else to feel.

He bolted from the room, storming down the halls of the building so quickly that everything blurred together in golds, blues, and greens until he stepped into the roll call room, where he knew he'd find Jason Christopher and no one else. "You son of a bitch," he growled, covering the ground between them in three large strides. He grabbed Christopher by the white material of his shirt and slammed him against the wall. "Don't you ever, _ever_ use my partner to get to me again. Got that?"

Even as he found himself being forced against the wall, Christopher remained unruffled. "Oh, I understand. I understand that you're jealous I screwed her first." He lowered his voice and his eyes twinkled as though he were about to divulge a wonderful secret. "She's a good girl, Boscorelli, a real good girl and a real good screw. You should take advantage of her sometime; she enjoys it."

Bosco jerked him forward before driving him back against the wall. "She's pregnant, _Jason_." At Christopher's stunned look, he continued, "She's pregnant and I'm serious. If you ever lay a hand on her -- no, if you ever lay eyes on her again, I'll shoot you myself."

Although his mind was reeling, he still managed a retort. "That's the Boscorelli I know, the violent little man with the bad temper and the big threats. Newsflash, little man: this attitude of yours is what got her in my bed to begin with."

Bosco released him and stepped back, ostensibly backing down to protect Faith. As soon as Christopher's arrogance was firmly back in place, Bosco clenched his right hand into a fist, intending to remove the sergeant's attitude once and for all. He drew his arm back and took a powerful swing at Christopher.

Christopher saw it coming, however, and dodged the blow, but couldn't contain the surprised sound that escaped from his throat.

Without anything to stop it, Bosco's fist connected with the wall at full force. As the pain traveled through his arm, he swore loudly, but it pulled back to swing again. He hadn't even brought his arm into position when someone grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him away.

"What in the hell are you doing?" demanded the voice of Lieutenant Swersky, who had heard the commotion from the front desk. When Bosco opened his mouth to reply, Swersky didn't allow him to explain. "Save it. Get your ass up to my office now."

Shooting a baleful glare at Christopher, Bosco jerked out of the lieutenant's grasp and took a few steps toward the door. He stopped dead when he saw Sully, Davis, and Faith standing in the doorway, gawking.

Trying to irritate Bosco more than trying to restore a sense of normalcy, Christopher turned toward the trio in the doorway. Pointing to Faith, he said, "Since Boscorelli is out of commission, you'll be my driver for the day."

Faith's posture became rigid and her eyes widened. Spend eight hours in close quarters with Jason Christopher? No, she couldn't. She couldn't, but she had no choice -- a phrase she had grown intimately familiar with over the past weeks. She opened her mouth to acknowledge the order, but the voice that spoke was not her own.

"You bastard," Bosco said, turning back to Christopher. He hadn't taken half a step before the lieutenant caught him once again.

"My office," Swersky said, pushing Bosco toward the exit and blocking his path to Christopher. "Got that?"

"Lieu," Davis spoke up, "before you talk to Bosco, I have something you might want to hear."

Faith shot a glare in Ty's direction; she knew what he was going to tell the lieutenant. Damn him for wanting to make the world into a fairytale land with no evils in sight. Just damn him and his morals and his idealism straight to hell, and while I'm at it, damn me and my lack of discretion, she thought bitterly.

Swersky considered what Ty had said for a moment before nodding. "All right," he agreed. "Boscorelli, you'd better be in my office when Davis and I are done. Yokas, Christopher, Sullivan, go wait outside while Davis and I have a talk."

\---

Saying he was going to get some coffee, Sully had taken off down the hall, leaving Faith and Christopher standing just outside the roll call room. Faith kept her eyes on the tiled floor, writing imaginary things on it with the toe of her boot while Christopher's smartly shined shoes paced back and forth, scuffing the floor on occasion.

The door swung open and Swersky, nearly purple with rage, said, "Both of you, in my office right now."

They followed him down the hall, but in his anger, he soon left them trailing behind. Swersky had already taken his place behind his desk and was midway through lecturing Bosco by the time Faith and Christopher entered.

"You're suspended for the remainder of this week, Boscorelli. You're lucky that's it; you _should_ be losing your job. What the hell were you thinking, beating up a suspect? I don't care if the person is a mass murderer -- you keep your hands to yourself. Walk away next time. Walk away. Do you understand me?" Swersky was saying, towering over Bosco who sat in a chair in front of the desk.

"Yes, sir," Bosco said, not understanding why he was being disciplined for beating Roberts -- something that had happened ages ago. He had just been caught assaulting his superior. That should have warranted more attention and a stricter punishment than anything from the Roberts case.

"Now," Swersky said as he turned toward Christopher, no longer yelling but now speaking with barely controlled rage, "what the _hell_ is this I hear about you making Yokas trade sexual favours to protect her partner's job?"

Christopher, no longer so sure of himself, spoke hesitantly. "Sir, I can explain..."

"By all means, Sergeant, go ahead."

"It's not what it sounds like, really," he said, trying to stall. He needed to know what Davis had said and how he'd known if he ever wanted to make Swersky believe him. He needed Davis's words if he wanted to spin them and morph it into a humorous misunderstanding.

Fed up with Christopher's stalling, Swersky looked to Faith, adopting a gentler tone as he said, "Faith, Davis told me that you came into the locker room, upset about something. He said he'd heard you tell Bosco that you'd slept with someone in order to keep Bosco's job safe and because of the scene in roll call, he assumed that person was Sergeant Christopher."

Faith felt her heart pounding crazily in her chest; she could even hear the echo in her ears. She couldn't tell Swersky that Ty had been right. She just couldn't. It was bad enough that Ty knew, that Bosco knew -- hell, that she and Christopher knew. She'd never been so ashamed of something in her life. If she could do just the smallest bit of damage control, she would do it. Hating herself for what she had done and what she was about to do, she said with great effort, "He heard wrong."

Swersky frowned and gave a slight nod of his head. He could see the truth in the way no one in the room would meet his eyes. He remembered when the three had begun working at the precinct and how close they had been, with Faith as the one who had kept them so close and so in line. He hated where that had gone, but he recognized that he was powerless. "All right, you three can go. Yokas, take your partner to the hospital and have his hand checked out. Then take the rest of the week off."

"Yes, sir," she said.

He paused until Bosco and Christopher left before softly continuing with, "And, Faith, if your story changes..."

She looked back at him as she reached the door. "It won't, sir," she said and stepped into the hall, where Bosco and Christopher stood squared off, waiting for her.

They studied her closely for a moment, not sure what to expect. Bosco broke the silence when he asked, "Why?"

Faith glanced at Bosco before looking into Christopher's pale eyes. "We used to be friends," she answered and waited a beat before saying, "Let's go, Bosco."

\---

Bosco stared at Faith's feet as she swung them back and forth, creating an almost hypnotizing effect. He wondered why she was sitting by him on the hospital bed and hadn't simply left him there, but he didn't want to ask for fear she would realize she was mad at him and leave. Still, he wanted to break the silence. "It doesn't hurt that much," he said, holding up his hand, clenching and unclenching it to prove his point.

"If it doesn't hurt, you shouldn't mind getting it looked at and finding out nothing's wrong," she said, her eyes fixed on some shiny, sterile, and frightening medical instrument across the room. She had never even noticed the motion as he tried to demonstrate his lack of injury.

He dropped his hand to his side and picked at the sheet, creating a tiny mountain range of itchy cotton peaks. As he much he felt the topic needed to be avoided, he knew they had to discuss what she'd said in the locker room earlier. "Faith?" he asked, trying to draw her attention.

"Don't argue with me, Bosco. I'm not in the mood. You're staying and letting them check you out," she snapped, turning to him only so he could see her seriousness.

"I don't want to argue either," he said, frowning as he regarded her tone and expression. "I just... You did that for me?"

"I did it for you." Sadness replaced her anger as she thought of where she had ended up as a result of her actions. She looked down at the sheet and ran her hand over the peaked fabric, smoothing out the jagged points.

It didn't seem appropriate; it seemed so very inadequate, but he said it anyway. "Thanks."

Faith looked up, surprised. She went to say 'you're welcome' out of reflex, but stopped. It would have been a lie and she had lied to enough people. He never was and never would be welcome to put her in that position, to make her sacrifice herself to protect him. She did it gladly and voluntarily every day of the week as a part of her job and that was enough. She settled for a quick nod in acknowledgment of his thanks.

"We really need to talk." Bosco wondered if he sounded like a hypocrite for saying those words; he was usually the one being told that he had to face something and not pretend to forget about it, locking it in the dark part of his mind where it would only come out to haunt his dreams. He didn't want that for Faith, but his true reason for needing to talk was far less noble. He didn't want to add this to _his_ list of demons.

"I can't talk about it yet."

He almost pointed out that she had done just fine talking about it that morning, but he bit his tongue. "You can stay at my place," he said, deciding that discussing what came next was a decent medium between what they each wanted. It was also necessary, since he doubted Faith had given it much or any consideration.

The doctor's noisy entrance drowned out Faith's words, but Bosco could feel that it was an acceptance of his offer.

\---

> > > Christopher chuckled to himself as his hard hands glided over her gentle curves. "Do you call for him no matter who you're with? Is he the one you really want?" His right hand quickly retraced its path and then tangled in her blonde hair. "You can pretend I'm your partner; I'll never know the difference."
>>> 
>>> She very well could, if not for the fact that Bosco would never wish this upon her, much less force it. She refused to bring him into the act no matter how he may have been connected to it already.
>>> 
>>> "Touch me like I'm him," he said, his voice low, thick and repulsive. He ducked down, his mouth so close to her stomach that his next words tickled her skin as they made her flesh crawl. "Like I'm him and no one's watching."

Faith sat up, silent tears running from her eyes as her head spun and her stomach churned. She could feel her stomach fighting against its meagre contents and knew she had only moments before it expelled them. Kicking off her blankets and trying to be as quiet as possible, she hurried past the window where sunlight was beginning to peek in, through the bedroom, and into the bathroom where she dropped to her knees just before being sick.

Coughing, she sat back and brought her hands to her head. She rubbed her temples and groaned as she felt her stomach repeat its protest. When she leaned forward and the bile again burned a path through her, she felt something that hadn't been there before.

One of Bosco's hands pulled her hair away from her face and the other rested protectively just below her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said as she coughed and returned her hands to her face, wiping at the stickiness left from her earlier tears. "God, Faith, I'm so sorry. I'll change. I promise I'll change and this will never happen again. I swear. I'm sorry."

She moaned slightly and leaned back, collapsing against Bosco. "Don't change," she muttered, her eyes closing. "Don't."

He lifted them both to their feet, Faith's entire weight leaning against him as he began guiding her to his bed.

> > > She could feel it growing inside her, and each time they reconnected physically, the physical-emotional sensation grew more, threatening to break through the too-weak walls she used to keep it at bay. Every time their bodies met, though, it became more obvious the he knew what she would enjoy in spite of herself and wasn't above using it to his advantage, over and over and again and again.
>>> 
>>> He paused briefly and she lay there, unashamed of the quiet whimper that escaped her throat, begging him to finish what he -- what Bosco, what _they_ had begun. She needed this completion, this ending. She even thought she wanted it.
>>> 
>>> He hovered above her and traced the curve of her face with the backs of his fingers while he reveled in the torture he was causing her through his delay. He stayed that way for a few moments saying with a smirk, "No one's watching."
>>> 
>>> He continued.
>>> 
>>> Then it was done.

"No," Faith said desperately, seconds after her back touched the bed. "No, please, no. I can't sleep here, Boz, please."

Bosco took her back into his arms before she could try standing. "Okay," he said. "Okay. It's okay." Reassuring her and kicking himself for not thinking, he carried her into the living room and laid her on the sofa.

Neither spoke as he brought the blankets up over her. The silence continued until he was turning away and Faith reached out, catching his hand loosely in hers.

"Promise me you won't change," she said, looking at him through tired eyes. "This will all have been for nothing if you change."

He offered her a gentle smile through the dark of the room. "I'll try not to."

\---

Faith sat curled up in the corner of Bosco's couch, staring sadly at the television screen as she held a mug of hot black coffee. For the better part of two hours, she'd sat there and listened to Bosco's snoring as it drifted into the room, managing to be louder than the television. The noise had stopped a few minutes ago, but it hadn't registered in Faith's mind, which had automatically shifted its focus to the dialogue on the television.

Bosco rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he walked through the living room and into the kitchen, where he proceeded to pour himself a cup of coffee. He inhaled deeply before taking a sip, the caffeine jolting him into a relatively aware state as he returned to the living room. He frowned, seeing his partner staring forlornly at the television. His eyes left her and traveled to the screen and he realized the reason for Faith's sadness. "No George?" he asked, knowing the only reason she would watch the morning reruns of ER would be in hopes of seeing her man, George Clooney.

She shook her head. "No George," she echoed pitifully, staring up at him with large eyes.

He nodded understandingly before sitting next to her. "Noah Wyle is hot," he said seriously, glancing sideways to see the reaction he got. Receiving none, he continued, "He could be your man when George isn't around. The way I see it, you can't help it if your eye wanders a bit. George only hurt himself by leaving the show." Realizing she would continue to ignore him, he turned his attention to the program and watched intently as the doctors struggled to save a pregnant woman.

Wanting to look anywhere but at the screen, Faith turned sideways and glanced at Bosco. He sat leaning forward, his coffee cup dangling loosely from his fingers and a grin spreading across his face. "What are you smiling about?" she asked, slightly annoyed.

He placed his mug on the coffee table in front of him, using the overturned graduation photo he hadn't bothered to put away or destroy as a coaster. "A baby," he said, still grinning like a fool as he turned toward her and placed a hand on her stomach, as if expecting there to already be a difference in her figure.

She back away, still uncomfortable and skittish from her experiences with Christopher. "No, Bosco, not a baby."

He felt his excitement vanish, but tried to keep the outward appearance of being overjoyed. She needed to see the good that had come from all she'd gone through in the past weeks. Hell, he needed her to see it. "Come on, Faith, just think about it," he said happily, taking her hands in his. "We can turn my little spare room into a nursery, pick out names.... I don't even know what else we're supposed to do. You have to teach me this stuff, you know. I've never done it before."

"We?" she asked, surprised by his choice of pronoun and momentarily forgetting the decision she'd already made.

"I want to be part of this kid's life," he answered, nodding. He did; it wasn't just a ploy to improve Faith's mood. The baby would never know its biological father, Bosco would see to that, but he would make sure it had a dad. "If you think about it, I'm why it exists. I'm practically its father."

She pulled her hands away and brought them to her lap, wringing them nervously. "Boz," she began, looking into his eyes. They could see right through her, making it so difficult to say what she wanted, but she knew she couldn't look away as she told him. "This...it's not going to have a life."

Bosco allowed his grin to disappear as he heard the words he'd been waiting for and dreading. "Why?"

"I hate it," she said simply before elaborating. "Christopher is its father and I hate that man so much.... It's not right, I know, but my hatred of him runs so deep that there is no way I'd ever be able to love his child, even though it's mine, too. I must be a terrible person because I can't even work up the feeling of guilt and uncertainty I had with Fred's. It isn't like I loved the man and it isn't like this thing had to beat the odds in order to exist."

"What?" He frowned, not understanding.

She could no longer hold his gaze, tearing her eyes away and focusing on his coffee mug instead. "Don't you get it? I wanted it to be over so bad, Bosco, that I just didn't pay attention. There was no condom, no protection of any sort. I guess I'm lucky I'm _only_ pregnant. See, this baby isn't because of something good, something like love. It's only because of my stupidity."

He wanted to yell. He wanted to tell her just how stupid she'd been and how she was supposed to be the God damn level-headed one and how she should have known so much better. He wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her. But she didn't need him to do any of those things. She needed him to be there, saying that people make mistakes and the important thing was that she was all right. She needed him to disagree, so he said, "You're wrong, Faith. There was love involved, even if it wasn't between you and Christopher. You slept with him because you loved me and didn't want to see me get hurt. Can't you love it because of that?"

She shook her head. "No, I can't. It all sounds so easy, so simple to you, but it isn't like that. You can't begin to imagine what it's like."

"So don't make me imagine," he said, reaching over to take her hands again. "Tell me; I'll listen."

Faith jerked her hands out of his reach. "It isn't about whether you'll listen. I can't talk about it, don't you understand that? It hurts too much. Even if I could, you still wouldn't get it. You can't grasp what it's like to feel someone's hands on you even when you're alone. You don't hear his voice telling you that you're a whore because he made you come. Those words don't echo in your head while you sleep. You don't avoid mirrors because someone said that you were ugly and you realized they were right. You have no idea, Bosco, and I'm damn glad you don't! So stop telling me you want to know and start being thankful you don't."

He watched her stand too quickly, closing her eyes as she fought a wave of nausea left over from earlier that morning. She recovered after a moment and walked toward the door, shoving her bare feet into her winter boots and reaching for her jacket. "Faith, don't go," he said, getting to his feet. "Look, if you want to be alone, I'll go. Just don't leave. Do you want me to go?"

She kicked off the boots and they slammed noisily into the wall. "No, I don't," she answered, crossing her arms and leaning heavily against the door.

He relaxed visibly. "What do you want, then?"

She looked in Bosco's direction, over his shoulder and out the window behind him, where the cold city continued to move at the pace so uniquely New York. She knew; it was just difficult to say.

\---

A no parking sign stood at the curb where Bosco pulled up in front of the cold looking grey building. There were still some good things about being a cop, he realized as he shifted into park. Then he hesitated, unsure of what Faith wanted him to do. "Do you, uh, do you want me to come in, hold your hand, whatever?" he asked, staring at the top of the steering wheel. It wasn't that he felt this choice made her unworthy of eye contact; he just didn't want his own uncertainty to add to her hesitation and her doubts.

Faith shook her head for her own benefit as she said, "No, I've done this alone before. I can again." She then turned in her seat and reached for the door handle before climbing out. She held the door open for a minute, knowing she could easily turn around and wait for another time or take the other option -- the option Bosco would rather see her choose.

Bosco reached into the back pocket of his jeans and took out his wallet. Looking her in the eye for the first time since leaving his apartment, he slid two bills across the seat -- a fifty and a one hundred. "Here," he said, leaving the money on the edge of the seat.

She glanced from the money to him, understanding. It was his way of accepting responsibility, of offering support. She reached down and took the wrinkled green money from the seat, smiling slightly so he knew she understood what he was doing.

She had been about to turn away when he spoke. "Once." Off her confused expression, he said, "How many times I've given a girl a hundred and fifty bucks, dropped her off outside an abortion clinic, and told her I'd catch up with her later. Just this once."

"I'll be okay," she said after a moment of not knowing what to say. She closed the door. There was nothing else left to do.

He knew she couldn't hear him, but he still said, "And I'll come back for you."

:end:


End file.
